


freedom of choice

by madriversong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madriversong/pseuds/madriversong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi orders Castiel to retrieve the newly found angel tablet from the Winchesters, but Dean gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	freedom of choice

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.

Even before he hears the feathery sound that announces the angel’s arrival, Dean can sense a static build-up in the air that sets the hair at the nape of his neck on end. When Castiel appears suddenly in the space several feet to his left, he startles and nearly drops the bottle of spray paint he’s holding.

“Hello, Dean.”  
  
“Cas!” he greets the angel with thinly veiled nervous irritation. He glances around the area to make sure they’re alone. He’s been spending the last half hour spraying protective symbols and angel-proofing sigils around the safe house where they’ve recently moved Kevin after a blundering incident that led a few demons to discover the last location. If nothing’s changed, the prophet is inside, asleep in a puddle of his own drool where he’s been studying.

They’ve found the angel tablet.

Dean awkwardly abandons the sigil he’s been working on and replaces the cap on the spray paint can before turning his attention back to the angel, who has been staring at him patiently and quietly.  
“You okay, Cas?” he asks now that he can give his full attention. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” Uncertainty flickers across the angel’s eyes in such a brief instant that Dean is almost certain he’s imagined it. “…busy,” Castiel finishes, looking at the warding on the building rather than Dean. In the night, they glow like toxic beacons of _unwelcome_.

  
__  
            _They don’t trust you, Castiel. They’re keeping the tablet and the prophet away from you._

_ Why? They’re my friends.  
_  
 _ Do you really think that they’ve forgiven you for all you’ve done? You’re an angel. They’re afraid of us, and they’re afraid of you. You have to get that tablet, Castiel.  
_  
 _ f what you say is true…. If they no longer trust me, what makes you think they’ll give it to me?  
_  
 _ If they don’t, you’ll have to take care of them. They’ll use it against us unless you stop them.  
_  
It won’t come to that.

  
  
Pain shoots through his head, but Castiel ignores it, writing it off as a side-effect of being so close to the angel-proofing. “I’m here about the tablet, Dean, the angel tablet,” he says gruffly.

The hunter swallows, glancing toward the door, where he knows Kevin is sleeping. Garth and Sam have gone off for a supply run but they won’t be back until the next day. He and his brother have had several conversations about the angel since last seeing him, and they have a number of theories about what could be wrong, because something obviously is. But they have no evidence and nothing concrete to run on. ** **  
****

Even now, there’s an unsettling vacancy in the blue eyes. Dean’s spent enough time around Castiel to know his normal expressions. He knows the way his vessel’s eyes crinkle or the way his mouth quirks into lop-sided half smiles, the serious line of his brow. Where he stands, Castiel’s jaw is slightly slack, his eyes slightly unfocused but serious.

“It’s safe with Kevin,” Dean says.

“The…” Castiel fumbles over his wording. “I’m not so sure about that. If… If Crowley gets his hands on that, the consequences could be… devastating.”

“Well Crowley’s not gonna get it.” Dean says, shaking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. He feels like he’s looking for puppet strings, and it hurts to think that an angel who fought so hard for free will is under someone else’s control. At some moments, Castiel has acted perfectly genuine. But now it feels as though Castiel is following a script. But whose? “Cas, what’s going on? Since when are you interested in tablets?”

“I’m not, I-“ Castiel’s words catch in his throat. Something isn’t lining up. This should be going much more smoothly. “This is important.”

Seeing Castiel struggle, Dean softens. “Yeah, I get that. But, Cas, it’s safe here. Trust me.”

In a bid to avoid arguing, Castiel changes the subject. “Has the prophet finished translating?”

Dean licks his lips, walking a few steps closer to the angel so he can speak at a softer level. “Mostly,” he answers while moving. “He’s uh… nailing down some details.” Castiel gives him an expectant look, tilting his head to the side in a familiar gesture of curiosity that provides unexpected comfort to Dean. “Kid won’t say what’s on it until he’s finished, though.”

He’s lying through his teeth. Kevin hasn’t made much headway with it, but he’s talked about what he’s seen. Castiel is right, he knows, that if the information on that rock were to fall into the wrong hands, the outcome would be pretty grim. But who can say that the angels themselves are the right hands? Their track record is sketchy enough as it is.

The angel narrows his eyes, doesn’t quite understand. Even though he can sense that Dean isn’t being completely honest, he nods. “Can I talk to him?”

He doesn’t ask why they’ve angel-proofed the place. He understands that they don’t trust Heaven or other angels as a rule, but he badly wants to believe that they still trust him, that he’s still different despite a nagging feeling that they don’t believe it anymore. Fear grips his insides in a way that he can’t explain, but he tries to push it down. He can look back later and try to understand why so much rides on whether or not Dean still trusts him.

The hunter’s lips curve up in an anxious smile, and he shrugs apologetically. “Ah, Cas, he’s sleeping right now. Poor dude’s been working on it for days. Wouldn’t wanna disturb, right?”

Castiel shrugs. “I can wait,” he says, trying and failing to smile reassuringly at his friend. He needs this. The longer he stands here looking at Dean, the more he’s convinced that the world will shatter if he’s lost the Winchester’s trust. Again.

“Look, Cas,” Dean starts to speak. He can see the Castiel’s eyes widen, strangely, can see the hope in them. The visible emotion causes something to catch in his throat, so he coughs roughly and shuffles. He backtracks. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Cas replies without thinking. But he knows something is deeply wrong. Beyond the what he’s told Dean before. He just can’t quite reason out for himself what it is.

  
_You have to stay focused Castiel. He’s trying to distract you. You must make sure you will be able to get to that tablet. The fate of all of Heaven may ride on your actions here. He cannot get in your way._  
 _  
He’s my friend. He’ll help us._  
 _  
_  Will he?

  
A cool breeze ruffles the corners of Castiel’s overcoat in a mockery of wings and tosses his hair slightly, and for a moment that appears to be the only part of him that moves. Dean shoves his hands into his pockets to protect them from the chill. It’s a quiet night.

“Where’s Sam?” the angel asks at length, looking around again. Last time he saw the Winchester boys, they were having relational issues, but he had always assumed that they would make up with each other. As far as he knows, they have. They’ve spent nearly their entire lives joined at the hip, and he doesn’t suppose they’ll stop now regardless of what had them fighting.

He wonders briefly if they’ve ever fought about him but then remembers, and the shame that fills him is so complete that his shoulders sag a little under the perceived weight of his past sins. ** **  
****

Dean’s lips form a tight line. “Sam’s out getting some supplies.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets to fold them across his chest. He knows that something is wrong with Castiel but he doesn’t know how to ask. “Hey, Cas, you know…” No. This isn’t going to turn into some touchy-feely confessional just because Sam isn’t around to make it awkward. “Um, we’ll give you a call when Kevin finishes,” he finishes lamely. “You don’t have to wait up.”

Intuitively, Castiel wants to accept this. It seems reasonable. He can let his friend be and carry on with his penance elsewhere.  


_No, Castiel. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not acceptable. You need to find out what the prophet knows and retrieve the tablet NOW._

**  
**But then this could be his penance. The angel tablet carries such a great weight, such a great importance to the fate of the remainder of his living brothers and sisters. He can’t just let this go.

“No,” he says before he can work out how to tactfully verbalize what he needs.

“No?” Dean echoes incredulously. There’s a visible shift in Castiel’s posture, a straightening in the neck and shoulders that sets him on edge.

“You don’t understand.” Castiel has won very few verbal arguments with Dean. In moments like this, he knows very well why, but he’s going to have to push through the social barrier. This is important.

“Oh, I understand, Cas. Angel tablet. This is a big deal.” Where his words started off mocking, Dean’s tone immediately softens to a sympathetic grumble.  “But don’t you think you can trust us to be on your side? We’re not going to let this fall into the wrong hands. Maybe we can even use it to help. At the very least, trust us to keep it safe.”  


_Nothing that they find on that tablet will do us good, Castiel. Whatever they know is already too much. These are secrets no one was ever meant to learn about us. You must stop this!_

  
“No, Dean. You don’t understand. The more that Kevin or any of you… The more that anyone learns from that tablet, the more… danger we are all in, you are all in.” At the dull, stubborn stare he receives in response, he continues with more urgency. “You saw what became of Samandriel. Crowley will do anything to get his hands on that power over Heaven.” Dean is about to speak, but Castiel cuts him off gruffly. “I can’t let that happen. I need that tablet. I can take it somewhere safe, where no one on earth or in Hell will ever find it.”

“Where, Cas? Heaven?” He raises an eyebrow severely. “Since when are you pal-ing around with those feathery assclowns again? I thought you weren’t going back.”

Castiel looks away for a moment, stares off into the night and the trees surrounding the safe house, looking for the means to avoid this conflict. “I’m trying to atone.” He snaps his gaze back to Dean, eyes wide. “After all I’ve done…” He pauses. “Heaven can’t afford any more tragedies. This is a big step in protecting my brothers and sisters from further harm…”

“Is it, though? Or is that just what they want you to think?” It’s out in the open now. Dean’s words are harsh, accusatory despite his best intentions. He only wants to find out who is behind the wrong in Castiel’s recent behavior. In the back of his head, he knows it’s the same people who freed his friend from purgatory. But guessing that it’s other angels is a gamble.

“They?” Confusion clouds Castiel’s expression. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who do you think, Cas? The angels.”

“They want the tablet secured as much as I do, but I am not –“ Terror wrenches deep within his chest and creates a hitch in his breath. Unwanted images of an auburn-haired woman in a suit flash behind his eyes, ephemeral and dream-like. Not quite real but painfully tangible. He blinks.  “– under orders from Heaven.” He licks his habitually chapped lips and takes an uneven breath to calm his inexplicably frayed nerves. “If something terrible happens because of that tablet, and I could have averted that... It’ll all be on my head. Again.” The vigor in his tone dwindles. “Grant me this one favor.”

“Last time you asked for help, you ended up killing the guy we were trying to save.” Bitterness from a long time over-thinking the incident with Alfie boils up to the surface. Dean frowns. “So what’s the turnaround going to be this time?”

“Dean…” Guilt wells up and threatens to drown him out in misery. “At the very least, I’m trying to protect you.” He’s running out of persuasive ideas.  


_If he won’t listen, Castiel, you’ll have to force him to listen. Remember what you are. He’s just a man. You are an Angel of the Lord and a hero._

__I'm not-_ _

 

_You’ve saved his life time and again. He should be grateful to you. Make him listen or you’ll have to put an end to this._

_I won’t do that._

_You won’t have a choice._

**  
**“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Dean realizes he’s going at this wrong immediately and shakes his head, backtracking. “If you really want my help, you need to be straight with me. What’s really going on here? Who wants you to get the tablet? And don’t tell me it’s all you – you’ve been acting weird ever since you got out of Purgatory.” He contemplates this for a second and can’t resist a slight shrug. “Well... weirder than usual.”

Uncomfortable and confused, Castiel shifts his weight. He doesn’t know how to answer, but he knows he needs to get the tablet. More than anything, the tablet is important. “How does any of that matter? So maybe I’ve been affected by Purgatory… more than I’ve been willing to admit. But it affected you too, and you’ve moved on.”

“So?”

“Well, Dean, this is me moving on.” Castiel spreads his arms then lets them drop loosely to his sides. “And what’s important right now is that I get that tablet to a safe place so it won’t pose a danger to you or Heaven.”

Dean shook his head, unconvinced. “Sorry, Cas. I just can’t let you do that. We need to know what’s on it. It’s the word of God, right? It’s up to Kevin to find out what it says. You just gotta trust me on this.”  


_Last chance, Castiel._

****  
****Trust. How can Castiel trust Dean when Dean doesn’t trust him?

“Some things weren’t meant to be seen. There are some secrets that are too great to be trusted in human hands. If you won’t give me the tablet…” He hesitates, but stands up slightly straighter with grim resolve. “…I’ll have to take it from you.”

At this and the cold in the angel’s blue eyes, Dean feels a strange dread welling in his gut. As the gravity of the pronouncement, he suddenly remembers that Castiel is an angel perfectly capable of destroying him with a thought. While he could easily respond sarcastically and call the angel out, something stops him, making him wish Sam were with him. Sam has always been better at negotiating. “Hang on there, buddy,” he says. “I get what you’re saying, but I need you to listen to me.”

“I have listened to you,” Castiel says calmly. Layers of nervousness fall away as he gives in to impatience. “And you’re wrong.” He takes a few slow steps closer to the hunter so that he’s literally inches from the man’s face and finds himself somehow stung and disappointed when Dean immediately steps back in response. “Now are you going to get the tablet or am I going to have to get it myself?”

Dean knows that if Castiel acts aggressively he has no means to protect himself. They’ve had hold of angel blades in the past, but he certainly isn’t carrying one now, nor does he believe he could bring himself to use one against Castiel. Especially not if the angel isn’t fully in control of himself. He’s fought too hard to keep him alive just to see this go up in flames now.  

“Can you at least give us until morning?”

“No,” Castiel answers without thinking. He knows he’s being unreasonable now, but he feels like he’s been justifiably pushed to this. “I offered to wait before, but that offer’s expired.”

“C’mon, really? Think about what you’re doing here. You said you were trying to protect me, remember? Or do you mean that like you wanted to rescue Alphie?”

A long moment passes where Dean and Castiel merely stare at each other intensely, Castiel perhaps reading Dean’s thoughts while the hunter wishes he could see into Castiel’s mind. Dean knows he’s gone too far, but Castiel isn’t reacting the way he’d hoped.

****

_I won’t hurt Dean. I won’t do it._

_He’s given you no choice, Castiel. Didn’t you hear what he said? He thinks you’re a monster, just like the kind he hunts. And he has the tablet, Castiel. What do you think he’ll do with it? You can’t let him._

_I won’t hurt him._

_It’s an order._

****

Then slowly, Castiel moves, a small twitch of his arm that sends his blade sliding smoothly from his sleeve into his grip. He speaks slowly. “I think you should seriously consider what it is that you’re doing here, Dean. Is the tablet really worth all this?”

Dean can’t stop himself from laughing nervously, but the fear comes when he can’t stop his mouth from spewing potentially dangerous words. “What are you doing, Cas? Are you going to kill me? Really? Like you killed Alphie?” He hopes that somehow he can use the angel’s remorse to his advantage, but it doesn’t seem to be working anymore. “What’d he tell Crowley that he shouldn’t have?” His eyes widen both at how far he knows he’s pushing and at a sudden, horrible realization. “When you said you were trying to protect me, you didn’t mean from demons, did you? I know what’s on the tablet and that makes me a threat!”

****

_He’s figured out too much. You have to kill him. Now, Castiel!_

_No! He’s still my friend._

****

Several thoughts converge and conflict in Castiel’s mind at once. His voice comes out distantly, like it belongs to someone else. “I don’t want to hurt you, Dean, but you’re not leaving me with much choice. Are you going to get the tablet or not?”

“No.”

****

_Kill him, Castiel._

_No!_

_Kill him. Kill him. Kill him!_

****

“Dean...”

“No, Cas.”

****

_KILL HIM._

  
He flicks the blade up at the ready and swings it forward but stops it just barely before plunging it into the Winchester’s stomach. Dean had sucked in his breath and refused to resist in the vague hope the angel would come to his senses, looking imploringly into the angel’s eyes.  
  
Castiel is lost now in the green of the hunter’s fearful stare. “Dean…” His eyes water. A single line of blood runs down from his nose. His head is on fire, a voice yelling, screaming _kill him_ over and over, and he can barely withstand the concentration it takes to keep from pushing the blade into the flesh of his friend.  
  
“Dean, I don’t want to do this. Something’s wrong… Something’s making me…”  
  
The expression in Dean’s eyes becomes much more complicated. He glances down warily at the blade. “What are you talking about?” But he knows. He was right. Someone’s pulling the strings. Dean backs up, but Castiel catches the front of his shirt in his fist and pulls him in close.  
  
“I don’t know, but you’re right. Something is wrong with me.” A ragged breath tears itself from his throat, hot in the hunter’s face. With a massive mental effort, throws Dean into the wall of the building. So close to the wards, he feels dizzy.  “I can’t do this.” The knife falls slack in his hand and he stoops, perspiring and panting. Once he recovers somewhat, Dean watches him, clinging to the wall of the building where he seems to be relatively safe. Instincts scream at him to call Sam, call Kevin, call someone. If he had a knife, he would try to make out a banishment symbol before Cas recovered, but he knows that something like that would take more time than he would have.

Slowly, Castiel straightens up slightly and holds the blade more firmly in his grip but backwards like a dagger. He staggers forward slightly, eyes unfocused and then slowly raises the blade up slightly so that it’s level with his middle. His hands tremble so violently, Dean’s not sure what’s going on. ** **  
****

But then a small, gravelly voice escapes the angel, a desperate sound so human that it’s frightening. “Please, Dean.”

It takes a moment for Dean to comprehend what it is Castiel is saying, what he’s suggesting happen. “No,” he says, eyes wide. “No, Cas you can fights this. Whatever is going on, we can fight this together. I can help. God, just… Just tell me how.”

Castiel groans in pain. Blood drips down from his right eye and his nose. The shouting in his head is a deafening roar that nearly drowns out Dean’s words. “No,” he breathes, pressing the blade into the soft of his belly but shaking too hard to apply the force he needs. “No, there’s no time. There’s no other way. I’ll…” He searches Dean’s eyes desperately, wishing there were some alternative and yet relishing, within some dark corner of his mind, the thought that this could finally be his way of making up for all of his past wrongs.

“No!” Dean rushes up to Cas, trying the wrestle the knife out of his hands.

“Dean, I’ll kill you if you don’t kill me. You have to…” He trails off, eyes wide. His head is exploding. He can’t even hear himself speak anymore, can’t create coherent thoughts beyond the one being funneled violently into his mind.

_Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM._

****  
** **

The grip he fixes on Dean’s wrist reminds the hunter of a similar grip he had when Dean escaped Purgatory. Yet this is so much different, Dean feels sick even before he quite understands what’s happening. In a fit of desperation, Castiel pushes violently up against the blade, running it up into his own chest while simultaneously pulling Dean’s hand forward to apply extra pressure, maybe to reassure himself, maybe to feel less guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel manages to say before he lets out a scream that is quickly drowned out by a high pitched whine and a blinding light. Dean shuts his eyes and lets go, backing as far away from the angel into the wall as he can, until the light fades and he can see again. Castiel lies with his eyes open where he’s fallen, surrounded by the charred outline of a pair of great wings. The blade jutts offensively from his chest. ** **  
****

The night goes quiet.

In a fit of grieved disbelief, Dean falls to his knee, pulling the knife from the angel and tossing it carelessly away. He touches the angel’s cheek briefly with the back of his hand then looks away, trying to comprehend what’s happened. “Cas, you stupid son of a bitch.” A sob catches in his throat, but he stops it from coming out. He knows he can’t be out here with angels after the tablet. Wiping away a single tear, he backs away and makes his way into the safe house, where he first makes sure that Kevin is sound asleep before allowing himself to fall apart.


End file.
